


Battle Scars

by ArthursKnight



Series: Battle scars and Love marks [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood, Graphic Description of Self-Harm, M/M, Racial slurs, beginning of a relationship, depressed Merle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 03:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthursKnight/pseuds/ArthursKnight
Summary: At one of his lowest points, Merle finds support and affection from a surprising source.





	Battle Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I come back to write for rare pairs I ship! Duh!
> 
> So. As I said in another fic, writing is how I deal with my depression. After that Milton/Merle fic, I had other strong episodes and started writing two fics of that kind. One of them is this one.  
> It is Caesar/Merle because I ship them way too hard. Read the tags, and please tell me if there is anything I need to add up there. The Archive Warning is there to be safe, although there isn't really any violence apart from the one Merle does to himself.  
> English is not my first language, and I want to thank @faeyllin on Tumblr for beta-ing this! The Spanish is all courtesy of Google Translate... Sorry.  
> I'm also sorry for the racial slurs: first of all, I'd never talk like that, but they are in-character. Second of all: I am not American, and I had to search them up online, so I don't even know if they are real. I surely never heard of them.
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS AND DO NOT MAKE MONEY OUT OF THIS WORK. ALL RIGHTS TO THE RESPETIVE OWNERS.

 

Merle had been staring at the wall for God knew how long. He sat on the floor next to the bed, only his boxers on, the covers tangled between his stretched out legs. He felt like a teenager again, searching for a way to numb the pain and finding it in buzz and meth, and in mindless sex that only made him feel worse. Cutting his skin worked better. Or so he thought.

Blood on his skin, on the blankets, on the floor; yet he couldn’t care less.

The chill air made him shiver, but he didn’t deserve to feel warm, so he stayed where he was. The words carved into his skin were a constant reminder of what he really was, and Merle wished he could wipe them off. _Mistake. Useless. Worthless. Idiot._ He knew that even if the words would have magically disappeared from his body, nothing would’ve changed. The junkie tried to get up, leaning on a nearby chair, but it had become smaller somehow so Merle just fell down again, and pain shot up his spine. His eyes fell on one of the scarred words he had forgotten about, one he had burned into his chest, near the heart, to remind himself he had a reason to live. _Daryl._ But Daryl didn’t give a fuck about him anymore. If he ever did.

Merle nipped at his tongue. _My baby brother is gone, alright._ His hand reached for the knife; another cut, more blood on his chest. _I was the one to leave first, though. He made that clear._ Nevermind he had left to save his own queer ass from their father. Not that Daryl would know that anyway.

Blood stained fingers found their way to his face as he massaged his temple. The pain was there, he knew. But it was like it belonged to someone else.

The lowered shade of the window left only a faint line of light in, and Merle wondered when the sun had risen. That meant he’d been staring at nothing for around eight hours. Or more. He took a sip from the second whiskey bottle of the night just to spit it out. It tasted like piss.

In between staring at the wall blankly, Merle had thought. He didn’t remember much of what had occupied his mind, apart his useless life. And Caesar. The man’s smile, his friendly eyes, the constant flirting that drove Merle crazy. _Shut it, Dixon! The Speed Demon ain’t swinging that way._ The hope Caesar would take care of him and fix unfixable wounds. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he blinked to make it go away.

“Well, damn me” Merle laughed. Standing in front of him was his father. In the back of his mind a whisper told him the old man was dead and buried, yet the bastard was staring at him, a smirk on his face and a lit cigarette in between his fingers.

“Are you happy now, dad? Yeah? I’ve become like you. And Daryl got a whole new family and left me behind! You were right all along...” his laugh faltered into ugly sobs, and tears fell down his hollow cheeks. His throat was dry, and Merle ignored the noises his empty stomach was making. _Not even starving myself makes me feel anything._ He growled, wondering if anything he could do would ever make him feel like he was worth something, or even just help him jump into a grave and end the pain.

His father sneered, lowering himself to Merle’s level. “I was, eh? You’re the reason why your mom died. Do you remember?” Will put out the cigarette against his son’s visible ribs. Merle nodded slightly, sniffling. There was no point in answering back. He remembered way too well his mother screaming, the house on fire, as he tried to get out of the storage room his dad had trapped him to save his mother and himself.

“And now? The fuck ya doing, uh?” Will sneered, grabbing his son’s neck and squeezing. “Having the hots for a Border Bunny?”

“Shut it!” Merle slapped away his father’s hand. He wanted to scream, to tell him to fuck off, but he knew it would make things worse.

“Yer nothing but a waste of space! I should’ve crashed yer head when ya was just a baby, you stupid faggot.”

“Ya would’ve saved me a lotta trouble, fucker” Merle spit on the floor; he could hear ragged breaths and it took him a few seconds to understand they were coming from him.

His father rose his arm to strike him. Merle covered his head with his hands, trying to make himself smaller, feeling like a child again and wishing he had never born. His mother should’ve known better. He awaited for the hit, shutting his eyes, emptying his mind.

Someone knocked on the door, one, two, three times. His name was shouted many times, but Merle stayed where he was, afraid to move, to acknowledge he existed. “My fault.” he muttered.

The door opened. “Dude, we’ve been searching for you for hours, damn it! What the fuck are you doing, getting to know your only hand better?” the newcomer yelled, but the sound was muffled to Merle’s ears. The person stayed in the frame, tapping their heels on the floor. “Hey, I found Merle!” Muffled words Merle couldn’t catch. “Nah, I’ll deal with it. Nah. Go.” Laughter.

The stranger seemed to register something was wrong, because a loud gasp reached Merle’s ears. Loud, fast steps. The stranger’s breath on his skin, like a caress on his wounds. “Oh, _mi mirlo, ¿qué te hapasado?_ ” somehow Merle knew the voice, but he couldn’t put a face to it. _Who would even care?_ He chuckled.

“Merle?” the man, because Merle was sure it was a man, lowered himself to Merle’s level. “Give me that, yes?” He showed him his empty hands, like he was trying to reassure a wild animal, then took a knife from Merle’s hand. _Where did that come from?_ Merle blinked a few times, trying to put his thoughts in order, then remembered everything. He had planned to end his life. And he had chickened out. _Fucking coward._ He opened his mouth to talk, to tell the man to go away, to leave him alone in his misery, but the words didn’t come. His father was still there, he was sure. _Why hasn’t he hit me yet?_

The man knelt in front of him, and Merle risked looking at his legs. Tight jeans that reminded him of someone he knew, someone he knew and loved. A man he loved. Merle sighed, rubbing his eyes to stop tears he hadn’t noticed. _Dad came back because I didn’t learn the lesson the first time, did I?_

The unknown man touched his arm, and warm hands rubbed against his freezing skin. Merle wanted to lean into the touch, but he knew he couldn’t. The redneck tried to get away, tangling himself further into the covers. “Make him go away. Please” he mumbled. “Please.”

“Make who go away, _mi amor_?” a soothing whisper. Merle found himself liking the voice. It was a voice he’d imagined talking to him in the dark. A loved voice. He took a long breath, then locked his eyes into the ones of his interlocutor.

Caesar stared back at him; soft, worried eyes asked questions Merle wasn’t ready to answer. The latino guy cupped Merle’s face with his hand. Merle could feel it shaking. “Do you want me to go away?” he frowned, his mouth set down. Caesar.

Merle shook his head as he wondered what made the younger man so sad. His heart skipped a beat as his body registered the man’s gentle touch. _Why doesn’t Caesar see him?_ He looked around to find his father gone. “I-I think I was seein’ things.” Rage rose in his stomach. For all the work he had done to look strong to Caesar, to make him interested, all Caesar was seeing now was a weak old idiot with daddy issues.

The other man just nodded. “It’s okay, Merle.”

Merle just sighed.

“Listen, _amado_.” Caesar put his arms under Merle’s armpits, securing his grip on him, and got up with the man. He hugged Merle, a slight frown on his face, and held into him as he ran his hand into Merle’s damp hair. “I...” Caesar mumbled. Switching his weight from one leg to the other, he nodded to himself and looked at the redneck. “I am truly sorry I never noticed how bad it all really was. _Lo siento_. But we’re going to fight this together, eh?”

Merle nodded in defeat. There was no point in saying no. Caesar would tell the Governor about all of this anyway.

Caesar sustained him as they walked in the bathroom. “Now we’ll get you cleaned up and we’ll fix those wounds, aye?”

Merle managed to get out of his boxers, and Caesar helped him into the bath tube. There was new blood at every step, and Merle wished the other man hadn’t found him like this. “I’m sorry” he mumbled, and hoped Caesar hadn’t heard. _Why do I bother? He’s doing this only out of pity._

Caesar nodded, parting his lips to say something just to close them without a sound. He turned on the water, tested it to see if it was warm enough, and helped Merle to sit in it. The younger man rubbed the redneck’s skin with delicate movements, and the tub soon filled with blood. Merle stretched his legs, and that brought shots of pain into his cramping muscles. He managed to hide a groan, and closed his eyes, enjoying being pampered by the man he so unfortunately loved. He knew it wouldn’t last.

Merle leaned into Caesar’s touch as the man’s calloused hands checked the deep wounds on his body. He wanted to talk, to ask what Caesar was even doing, what he was thinking of him now, but he doubted he could find the words.

Drops of water fell on Merle’s head, even though he could feel the shower head close to his shoulder, so he opened his eyes and looked at Caesar. Tears filled the man’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry, _mi amor.”_ Caesar lips curled in a teary smile.

“What does that mean?” Merle asked. His heart ached seeing Caesar like that, and knowing it was the cause of it. He wanted to distract him.

“What?” Caesar’s eyebrow shot up.

“Mi… Mi amor? What does that mean?” Merle saw hesitation in the eyes of the man he loved, and he regretted asking until Caesar answered.

“It means ‘my love’...” the man bit his bottom lip.

Merle widened his eyes, then ran in hand in between his hair in anger. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, idiot.”

“But I do” Caesar squeezed Merle’s shoulder, careful not to hurt him. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while. I mean… We have been flirting all this time, I thought you felt the same… Oh. I was wrong.” the latino cleared his throat.

“No.” the word came out before Merle could stop it. “You weren’t wrong. I-I guess I just didn’t think you’d feel the same.”

Caesar nodded, and that seemed to settle it. From that moment they both kept quiet. When Merle was clear of the blood, Caesar helped him out and bandaged the cuts and scratches the redneck had made on himself.

As they headed out of the bathroom, Caesar smiled at him. “ _Mi amado_ , don’t give me another scare like that.” He caressed his cheek, left Merle sitting on the bed, and searched for clean clothes to give him.

Merle nodded to the other man’s back. “I’ll try.” he mumbled.

“And that’s enough for me.” Caesar started to clean the room up. “Just remember you aren’t fighting this battle alone anymore, _querido._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm.. What did you think of it? Please leave kudos and a comment, I'd love to get feedback! :)


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